


a few bombs and bad weather

by crookedspoon



Series: 1 Million Drabbles [13]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Suicide Squad - All Media Types
Genre: Community: femslash100, Explosions, F/F, Girls Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:04:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3724822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a pattern to Cupid's heroes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the difference between love and death

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Amy Gumenick's [question](https://twitter.com/amygumenick/status/580952463722700803) on who Cupid's next "hero" might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for #453 "[pull](http://femslash100.livejournal.com/1398360.html)" at femslash100 and "Another fine mess, Like hearts marked out but not yet colored in, Vacation" at 1mw's Drabble/Icon Challenge: [Day 27](http://1-million-words.livejournal.com/1127469.html).

Harley's pictured playtime more like sunny beaches and touristic hubs than sweltering deserts and terrorist hideouts. The main difference? Too much sand. It's everywhere, it creeps into her boots, obscures tracks, gnaws away villages, buries contact mines—wait... contact mines?

_Shit!_

She tackles Carrie faster than she could have warned her. The resulting explosion triggers a chain reaction that brings an entire block of houses down on them. Harley's been hoping for rain, yes – as in water, not minced meat or chunks of walls.

"You all right?" she asks and hacks up the swirling dust that burns in her eyes, her throat, her lungs, that scrunches between her teeth and makes her nose itch. She sneezes, and every movement shakes another shower of debris from her hair. "Nothing broken or anything?"

"You saved my life," Carrie groans, as if she were disgruntled about it. Then again, she just landed none too gently on a ground littered with sharp rocks and smithereens. They dig into Harley's hands and knees, cover her clothes with fine powder. It's like that one baking adventure that ended with her flying into broken jars of flour, sugar, and chocolate sprinkles.

"Don't mention it," she rasps, throat drier than the Atacama. Some refreshments would be nice. "I didn't wanna travel alone."

Carrie's thanks get lost in Harley's ringing ears, but the kiss that follows is like gravity: understanding is not necessary to experience attraction. Harley may be an acrobat, but even she's never learned to defy it.


	2. we're not heroines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for #454 "[click](http://femslash100.livejournal.com/1401887.html)" at femslash100.

Carrie sees a metaphor in the explosion: the thundering boom shook her awake, the breaking down of walls exposed what lay hidden, and the resulting view couldn't be any clearer.

Her feelings have never been requited because the men she fell in love with just aren't worthy of her. They had saved her not to preserve her as a person, but to satisfy their own need for heroism or self-destruction – it would have been the same had she been anyone else.

Harley now, Harley's different. Harley is like her: passionate, misunderstood, rejected. She knows what it's like to love in vain.

Carrie knows it's not adrenaline alone that has her heart galloping in her chest.

The dust settles and their lips part. Harley looks a little startled, a little green of face. Has Carrie been mistaken after all, has she gone too far in showing her affection? As if to answer Carrie's thoughts, Harley scrambles away and is physically sick.

Carrie's heart tears like paper.

"Sorry," Harley says, wiping her mouth. "My head's spinning like I've drunk nothing but bad vodka all week. And I'm more a tequila kinda girl."

Concern wins over the pain. "Don't move. You might have a concussion. A building just collapsed on you."

"Don't worry, sweetie. Wouldn't be the first time." Harley's smile is forced, weighted down by memories. "About just now... That... was kinda nice, actually. I'd kiss you back, but I taste gross now."

Carrie breathes, then laughs to herself. Relieved, not rejected.

**Author's Note:**

> Title adapted from the song "Together We'll End All This" by Cire.
> 
> Feedback more than welcome. Reblog [here](http://crookedspoonfic.tumblr.com/post/116144094710/a-few-bombs-and-bad-weather-crookedspoon-arrow) if you like.


End file.
